NOT SO LAFFY TAFFY
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Dean is stuck between two ghosts. One is pulling on an arm and one is pulling on his leg. Ouch.


Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural. I'm just having a little fun.

**NOT SO LAFFY TAFFY**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

It happened fast. Too fast for Sam to react with any alacrity. Cedric and Eldon Talmadge, the particularly vicious ghosts of two young boys that had been plaguing the area appeared abruptly and stealthily. They grabbed Dean and were using him as a pull toy between them, all the while giggling quite madly. The preternatural taffy pull might have been funny if it wasn't so potentially deadly.

Banishing them took a bit of extra effort as the ghostly brats seemed particularly immune to all measures. Eventually Sam persevered, watching with grim satisfaction as the spirits dispersed into the ether. He cringed, however, when his brother crashed to the ground with a loud thud. His forehead bounced off the hardwood floor.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he rushed across the room. Skidding to a halt, he dropped to one knee next to his sibling. "Dean? Man, are you okay?"

"Uhm…yeah…" Dean wheezed, gathering himself to move. The minute he did, his right ankle and wrist screamed with pain. "Ow! Shit. No, not so okay."

"Where're you hurt?"

Blowing out a breath, Dean reluctantly muttered. "Wrist and ankle."

"Lemme take a look."

Working himself slowly into a sitting position, the older Winchester grimaced. "Nah, I think they're just sprained. It'll be all right in a minute."

"Uh huh." Without saying anything else, Sam reached for his brother's hand and gently pulled it toward him. As expected, he saw that Dean's wrist was already swelling and turning purple.

"Well, if that ankle is anything like your wrist, it's going to take a lot longer than a minute for them to be all right."

Dean shot Sam a sour look. "Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

Raising his left hand, Dean wiggled his fingers. "Help me up."

Sam grabbed Dean under the arm and pulled him to a standing position, steadying him when he swayed.

"You okay?"

Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's jacket as the room spun in a dizzying circle. "You know, I always hated merry-go-rounds."

"Your head took a pretty good knock. There's goose egg on your forehead."

"Awesome. Let's get outta here." He crumpled on his first step and would've hit the floor again except for Sam's support. "Okay, no weight on that ankle then," he gasped.

"So—hop or carry?" Sam smiled as he said it, but there was concern in his gaze.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

With Sam's help, Dean made it out of the house and to the Impala. It was a slow journey, and the awkward hopping aggravated his ankle, wrist, AND head. All three were throbbing in a thoroughly nauseating simpatico rhythm. Without a word, he fished the car keys from his pocket and handed them to Sam before gratefully sinking into the passenger seat of the Impala.

He waited for Sam to hop in the driver's seat and start the car before he said, "What're we gonna do about the Thompson Twins in there?"

"The ones who so happy to _lay their hands on you_?" Sam replied tongue-in-cheek. The side-eyed look he received from Dean made him chuckle. "WE'RE not doing anything. I'M going to do a little research and find out where those little cretins are buried. And then I'M going to salt and burn their remains."

"Uh uh. You need back up."

"It'll be fine, Dean."

"But you saw them, Sam. They seemed freakishly immune to all our tricks."

"I figured it out though, right? So it'll be fine. Besides you can't walk, let alone run. And you can't shovel with that arm."

Knowing it was the truth, Dean grumbled and slumped back in his seat. "Fine. But I still don't like it."

Sam put the car in gear and hit the gas. He shook his head. "You never do." He saw Dean carefully cradle his arm to his chest. "How's the arm?"

"Bad enough."

"And your ankle and head?"

Dean sighed and rested his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. "Let's just say it's going to be interesting getting into the motel room."

"Hey, the carry option is still open."

"Not on your life."

_**FIN**_


End file.
